Mint Julep
by IWantAnAlien
Summary: COMPLETE - Kirk/Spock slash told from McCoy's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

"Bo-ones, I swear I'm fine." I arched an eyebrow at my friend and captain. It was always a bit concerning how much of a child he became during a simple trip to Sickbay.

"I don't know. You've been acting awful strange lately." _You and Pointy-Ears both. _I motioned for Nurse Chapel to bring a tricorder around. "Lack of concentration, you haven't been sleeping-"

"How would you know?" He asked suspiciously.

I snorted and avoided the question. Truthfully, it was simple. With my medical expertise, I had guessed. It wasn't too hard. He stifled yawns on the bridge as well as evidence of drowsiness whenever off-duty. Plus he simply _looked_ tired. Good god, it didn't take a doctor to see that.

I could have told him this. It was more fun, however, to lead him to believe that I had been spying on him in some ridiculous fashion. I decided to continue listing my observations as if I hadn't been interrupted: "-somnolent when off-duty, distracted-"

"Doesn't that go with 'lack of concentration?'"

"No," I scowled. "Distracted implies that not only are you _not paying attention_, but you in fact have something bothering you. Or at least monopolizing your very limited thought capacity." _Try and correct _me_ you little…._

"Like I said. I'm _fine_."

"I beg to differ, and _as_ the ships acting Chief Medical Officer I am acting _fully_ within my rights when demanding to know what's wrong with my captain!" I growled impatiently. "Now sit still!" Something flickered behind his eyes for a split second, but then it was, as per usual, hidden behind a cocky grin. I would get nothing out of him until we were alone.

"Well, Doctor, hate to disappoint, but there's just absolutely nothing wrong with me." I looked at Christine, shaking my head, and she smiled back.

"Maybe not _medically_, Captain," she suggested playfully. Jim seemed to process the friendly taunt, but instead of playing along he saw a way to use it to further his argument.

"_Exactly._ See, Nurse Chapel agrees with me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Well whatever she says, I outrank her and I say there _is_ something wrong with you." I dug through a drawer, pulling out a compact, white container. "These'll help you sleep and, as your doctor and friend, I _highly_ suggest that you see someone about whatever is bothering you."

"Alright, Bones. Thanks." Finally conceding, his grin turned into an actual smile; the reassuring kind that reminded me he wasn't just some young, cocky _idiot_, but intelligent and mature enough to captain a starship.

No matter how hard he liked to pretend otherwise.

**//-//-//**

Twenty minutes after my exchange with Jim my shift ended so, leaving Chapel in charge, I headed to the bridge. I was worried about Jim. I couldn't exactly say why, he just seemed different, troubled. He was certainly distracted. He nearly walked right past me this morning. Empty hallway, not much space to miss someone… Most peculiar, his shameless flirting was almost non-existent. We'd be walking down the hall and pass a pretty ensign and there wouldn't even be a once-over. He'd just either keep talking or staring into space, pretending to listen to me talk. Whatever point our conversation had reached.

The bridge door swished open and I found that I'd stumbled into an opportunity. Everyone was silently at work, however Jim hadn't actually _noticed_ me. I leaned against the wall behind him, beside Uhura's station, and decided to observe my patient.

Nothing much was happening at the moment, we wouldn't reach Psi 2000 for days, so, admittedly, he didn't _really_ have too much to be doing. However, staring with abject concentration at his first officer's back hardly seemed productive. He looked miserable, not in a way that the rest of the crew would notice, but I could tell. I stood perplexed as his bright eyes traveled across Spock's slim shoulders and tense neck, lingering for what my tastes felt was just a bit too long on the pointy ears. The pointy ears that were flushed green as if aware of the attention.

Then he did the unthinkable. _He licked his lips._ The movement itself wasn't overtly disgusting, just the light movement of his tongue slowly tracing his slightly parted upper lip, all very tame for someone such as Jim but the gesture was directed at _Spock_.

I couldn't help it. It was an acute stress reaction: a physiological condition arising in response to a terrifying event. In my disorientation I fell and hit my head, successfully drawing attention to myself and knocking myself out.

Well, what can I say? I'm a doctor not a spy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **i own nothing and all that and make no money off this :(

* * *

My head spun as I began to regain consciousness. I was still on the bridge, Jim sitting above me, gripping my arm too tightly. "Ge' off," I mumbled, shaking my numb limb with very little coordination. "Y're cutting off my circulation." The result was that my hand connected with my captain's unsuspecting face.

I opened my eyes warily to see Jim looking at me as if I'd slapped him. Oh wait… "Sorry, Jim. Didn't mean to hit you." He exchanged an amused look with his first officer.

Chekov and Sulu exchanged their own knowing glances though I wasn't particularly sure what it was that they actually _knew_. It wasn't like I was prone to these incidents.

Wait a damn minute. Since when did Spock give 'amused looks?' And since when were he and Jim so damn amicable towards each other. Last thing I remember Spock was strangling the hell outta… no wait. Last thing I remember was Jim looking all hot and bothered by… I heard a small groan of disgust escape my lips and felt nausea flood my stomach. The gesture hadn't left much room for interpretation.

There was something wrong with this. Barely a month had passed since Spock had lost it on the bridge. When someone tries to _murder me_ I generally hold a grudge.

Besides, it was _Spock_. Spock was… Spock. He was an annoying, emotionless… _Spock_. Not exactly the lovable type. Maybe the captain was sick. Any one of the planets we had visited held mysteries. Just being in orbit around them could have had dangerous side effects that my initial scans hadn't picked up on.

Having recovered from my fall, I felt the need to set things straight. "Jim, Captain, get your ass down to sickbay so I can examine you." The bridge crew sent each other worried glances. I realized that, given their lack of knowledge as to why I had passed out, it must look a bit unusual for _me_ to be ordering the seemingly healthy captain to sickbay. Scotty, with that ever apprehensive squint in his eyes, seemed ready to call for help at a moment's notice. "Well? Didn't you hear me?" I barked at Jim who was still hovering in front of me as if _I_ was the one needing help.

"Doctor, I suggest you have someone accompany you to the medical bay so you may ascertain the cause for your syncoptic episode without subjecting yourself to the risk of further injury." The half Vulcan watched me as stoically as ever, hands characteristically clasped behind his back, perfect posture, dark eyes blank and mouth firmly set so he was neither frowning nor smiling; yet I could have _sworn_ there was something mocking in his flat tone.

"I don't need a doctor, damn it, I _am_ a doctor!" The point was moot anyways because I _knew_ why I had fallen and hit my head. That wasn't the mystery here. Jim was the one who needed an examination.

"Doctor, I merely wished to express-"

Jim rolled his eyes, knowing that this would last a while without his interference. "Spock, you have the conn." Offering me his hand, Jim pulled me to my feet. "I'll take the doctor to sickbay." He grinned for a moment at the irony in his statement.

As soon as the doors swished shut behind us, we both turned to each other ready to express concern for the others' health.

"Bones-" he started.

I cut in, determined to finally get the point across that _he_ needed help. "Jim. Why didn't you tell me your condition had gotten so serious? I'm a doctor, not a fortune-teller! You can't expect me to be damned clairvoyant."

"…Huh?" He really didn't understand. Must be a side effect. He raised his eyebrows so high they reached his golden brown hairline. "Now slow. the fuck. down. _What _are you talking about?"

I paused before replying. "Your _blatant _lusting after that green-blooded bast…" My voice drifted off as all color drained out of his face. "-ard…. Jim?"

"W-what do you…"

I wasn't accusing him of anything. I tried to make this clear. "Don't worry. Spock probably just touched the wrong random-pheromone-producing-flower on his last mission and-" Jim was shaking his head violently. "It happens all the time."

His entire demeanor had shifted to panicked and almost feverish. Now I was worried. If this had been the result of his or Spock's contact with an alien substance and he was merely under its control, he wouldn't be reacting so… _viscerally_.

"My quarters. Now." Regaining some semblance of self control, he dragged me to the turbolift. "Now, you have to promise not to murder me. I'll explain when we have some privacy." He glanced nervously at the discreetly placed security camera.

I wasn't entirely dense. "Oh no you don't. If this is going where I _think_ this is going, we're going to need some medical help."

**//-//-//**

Once we reached my office I pulled a curved bottle of Saurian brandy from its hiding place in my desk along with two glasses. We sat silently, watching the brownish liquid fill each glass a few times before either of us felt prepared to talk about our feelings.

"I can't stop thinking about him, Bones," he muttered finally, making eye contact for only a moment before averting his gaze to the glass in his hand. I felt an eyebrow raise reflexively, but leaned back and let him speak. He shifted, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and poured himself another drink. Then another. And another. And yet another. At this rate he'd be drunk enough to spill his guts to me within five minutes even experienced in binge drinking as he was. "You're my best friend, really my _only_ friend as far as I'm concerned. My mom can't stand to be around me, Sam got sick of my shit years ago…" I was starting to regret my lets-get-Kirk-drunk-plan. "Which makes you my only real _family _too." It was a touching sentiment, but I'd heard all this before. We'd been through it. Many times actually. He knew all my problems and I knew all of his. Which, now that I thought about it, was exactly _why _we had stopped drinking together.

"Where does Spock come into this?" I asked, slightly impatient. A large smile spread across his face.

"Spock… I don't feel like that around Spock." He half giggled, then his gaze turned serious. "When my hand brushes against Spock's arm the whole room catches on fire. Then he looks at me and I remember why I can't let my hand stay there. He knows, Bones, about the fire. His skin's so warm… He has to stay in control or he'll burn up." It was silent for a very long moment and I stared at my friend with genuine concern for his sanity.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Maybe I wasn't the best person for this. I wasn't a psychiatrist after all. And not the most tactful person out there. But Jim didn't care about tact. Probably how we managed to be such good friends for so long.

"Spock. I'm talking about Spock. Why would I want to talk about anyone _other than_ Spock? I can't _think_ about anyone else long enough to come up with something to _say_ about them." He grinned a sloppy, drunken grin with no memory of how troubled he'd looked only seconds ago. "Your eyes are the same color as Spock's shirt."

"Really, Jim? _Really_?"

"Yep." He missed the exasperation in my voice. "Blue's so nice."

"I'm glad you approve. Jim, does Spock know about this?"

"I should tell him. I think he likes blue too."

"Not that, Jim."

"Oh."

His tone had softened and he sounded like a child. Goddamned brandy. I tried again. "Does he know?"

"…Spock knows how I make him feel, and he knows how he makes me feel, but he doesn't understand yet."

"Understand what?" Every time his voice took on a new emotion I lost his train of thought.

"I don't know. He doesn't understand a lot of things." He was still holding something back and, taking into account his current state, that certainly spoke strongly to his desire to keep that something secret.

Curiosity tugged at me, but with a sigh I held it back. "Why don't you get some sleep." He nodded slowly and, seeing that the conversation was over, stumbled out of his chair. "Nurse," I pressed down a button on my computer.

"Yes, sir?"

"Please ensure that the captain finds his way onto one of our cots."

**//-//-//**

"Spock!" At the sound of his name he stopped and turned, acknowledging my presence with a slight inclination of his annoyingly symmetrical head. "There you are." I knew this was a bad idea, but I'd been drawn into this absurd love affair and needed to see it sorted out.

* * *

**Author's Note: **so chapter two came out a bit early! got back from my run and actually got around to finishing it :)

thank you so much to the people who added this story to favorites and alerts and such and i hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as you did the last one. and specially thanks to the people who reviewed :) reviews are kinda the best things ever.

This story will probably only last about 5 chapters and stay in McCoy's POV the whole time cause he's kinda awesome.

btw. a few people asked about the title. it's McCoy's favorite drink and just sounded like it fit :)

So yea... please lemme know what you think/message-email-whatever me if you wanna fangirl/boy out about anything star trek related cause i'm currently obsessing


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing :(

* * *

"Bones… I'm asking you this in all seriousness. _What_ did you say to Spock?"

"Just now? Nothing, he just lay there while I finished. A bit rude since I was really only there for his benefit, but what can you expect? He's not the most talkative guy." Jim's hand tightened its grip on my shoulder, his fingers dangerously near my neck. He stopped walking, choked out a cough and just _stared_ at me. "What? All I said was… James! Oh,_ God_. _Why_ do you put these damn pictures into my head?" I banged my forehead into the wall, hoping to damage my brain in some permanent way. "Jesus… I'm a _doctor, _Jim, not a happy-ending masseuse! He was lying on a medical bed getting an examination!" The shock faded from his face. A wide, highly amused grin took it's place. "Why do you like seeing me in pain?" I groaned.

"Oh, Bones, I don't. I was just picturing you trying to have sex with Spock."

"Ahhhrg." I gave my forehead one last try against the wall, but, alas, no memory loss ensued. "I give up," I grumbled. "I-" I turned and there was Spock, in all his eyebrow raised glory.

Jim laughed his 'oh fuck I'm totally fucked and that's really a bit funny' laugh. I just stood there, mortified. Spock was scary.

"Captain…" He was choosing his words carefully. "I fail to see why you would… find it necessary to visualize…" He couldn't bring himself to say it. I didn't blame him, the thought alone was frightening.

"Well Mr. Spock," we waited for Jim to finish his sentence. He flushed pink, but no more words were formed so instead we stood there in a _very _uncomfortable silence until red lights began flashing throughout the corridor.

Our conversation momentarily forgotten, the three of us rushed towards the bridge.

Thank God. With any luck, someone was attacking the ship.

* * *

**Author's Note: **sorry for the obscenely short chapter :) the next one will be long though, promise.

tomorrow will have no updates because i'll be in philly seeing the star trek exhibit.

it should be awesome. has anyone been?

anyways. sorry again for this chapters length, but it was either this or no updates for a few days :)

thanks for the reviews and story alerts and favorites and a special special thanks to people who've reviewed twice already!


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out the ship was not under attack. I, however, was very busy nonetheless and unfortunately unable to pursue any form of conversation with either Jim or Spock. Besides, they had their own concerns to occupy them for a while.

Sulu lay strapped to the bed in front of me, shirtless and sedated. According to the security team that brought him in, while brandishing a fencing foil he'd been running about the ship "protecting fair maidens" and generally scaring off the crew.

He wasn't the only one who'd lost it. Something was spreading through the ship and, as CMO, it was my job to analyze the sickness and treat it.

Somehow.

Shit.

It wasn't going well.

"Biopsy lab." I jammed my finger onto the comm.. "Biopsy Lab! Harrison?"

Fuck.

Lieutenant Riley, in his own fit of insanity, had holed himself up in engineering and had essentially taken control of the _Enterprise_. Scotty was down there now, trying to get back in before the ship fell out of orbit and we all died. That was, at this point, a distinct possibility given that Riley had turned off the engines and refused to turn them back on again. Now communication was down, too.

"Nurse?" I turned to Christine who looked slightly out of it. "I'm going to the biopsy lab to get Sulu's test results. Watch him." I'd been running test after test, trying to find _something_ that could be responsible for this.

It had all started after Spock and JG Tormolen returned from Psi 2000. The six-scientists in the research team that had been studying the planet were all dead and the planet itself was on the verge of total disintegration. Spock and Tormolen had brought some damned thing back with them and now Tormolen was dead and two-thirds of the ship crazy. I hadn't seen Spock yet so I wasn't sure of the state of his mental health. If he lost it… essentially what the - whatever it was – seemed to do was tear down inhibitions and take away judgment and common sense. Considering he was three times stronger than the strongest of us, I did _not_ want Spock to be infected.

"Alright." Christine smiled at me complacently, playing with her hair. I gave her a funny look and left. Knowing my luck, she was probably sick as well.

Speak of the devil, there was Spock rounding the corner. Nurse Chapel beckoned him into my sickbay.

I hid.

"Mister Spock," Christine called fondly. Apparently, the two of us had very different instincts when confronted by a possibly crazed half Vulcan. Damn her. Now if he _was_ crazy I would have to reveal myself so he could strangle me to death and not her.

Well that's just great, isn't it?

Spock didn't look infected at least. He was still his normal, not a hair out of place self.

"Nurse? Where is Doctor McCoy?" She ignored his question and reached for his hand, turning it over delicately in her own. "Nurse?"

"_Christine_, please," she practically purred. "Mister Spock, the men from Vulcan treat their women strangely. At least, people _say_ that, but you're part human too. I know you wouldn't hurt me, would you? I'm in love with you, Mister Spock. You, the human Mister Spock, the Vulcan Mister Spock… I know how you feel. You hide it, but you _do_ have feelings. Oh… how we must hurt you, torture you…"

I was surprised, to say the least, by these secret feelings. How the hell long had she felt like _this_? What the hell was happening? First Jim, now Christine! The world was going mad, and it had nothing to do with whatever was spreading through the ship.

Spock looked shocked too. Or at least looked slightly ruffled, which I took to be the Vulcan equivalent of shocked.

"I-" Spock pulled his hand away gently. I was reminded of a lecture on Vulcan physiology, most importantly the bit about their super-sensitive hands. "I-I'm sorry." He really was. His voice was so tender he actually did seem capable of emotion. Although, if his emotions were not only real, but all of a sudden unsuppressed… Goddammit. Chapel just had to go and infect him.

At least now I knew not to touch anyone. I just had to figure out what was being transferred through touch…

Spock fled the room, unable to hold himself in any longer.

Mark my words, this was not going to end well.

As I followed him as secretly as I could I was just thankful that I hadn't had the guts to point blank ask him if he was attracted to Jim yesterday. No matter what his response, the question would have brought up _some_ kind of strong emotion that I really would prefer he didn't let out in his current condition. Whether it be uncontrollable lust or complete disgust, the captain's physical well being would have been in grave danger. Instead, I had approached him then panicked and blurted out the first word I'd thought of.

Chess.

Why was chess the first thing I though of? I wasn't sure. But I went with it, suggesting that he should challenge Jim to a game sometime. I'd told him they'd both enjoy it, and added in an uncharacteristic wink for good measure. Winking usually got Jim what he wanted. I think in this case it had only served to convolute matters, confusing Spock and myself as to what was really meant by the suggestion.

But maybe it would work, maybe I had set something in motion. If I hadn't been stalking Spock at this particular moment, I would have laughed. Picturing them playing chess together… it was a bit absurd.

Not that that mattered at the moment.

What mattered was that, upon following Spock, I regretted having said anything at all. When I caught up with him (due to sheer cowardice I had left a large amount of space between us) he was collapsed in the rec. room; his head resting in his arms beside the 3-D chess board, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"Spock?" I questioned softly. Inwardly I groaned. After yesterday's heart-to-heart with Jim, I was all out of heart. I was in short supply to begin with. I wasn't sure I could handle another one of these talks, with Spock of all people, especially considering I had no hidden alcohol in this particular room.

Spock sniffled in acknowledgment. If the sound were any less heart-wrenching I'd have laughed at the mere idea of Spock even knowing _how_ to sniffle. "…Leonard?" The sound was muffled, but his tone seemed distinctly vulnerable.

I felt like I was trying to approach a very timid animal.

"Y-yes, Spock?" I asked, slightly thrown by the use of my first name. He pulled his head up so he could see me. I tried to cover my face in as much compassion as I could muster.

Silently I feared this expression was just as confusing as my earlier attempt at winking.

"Leonard… I never told my mother I loved her. It was not done on Vulcan. But she was not Vulcan. Imagine what it must be like as a mother, living your entire life and never having your son say he loved you."

"Spock, I…" I sat down across from him. He looked so miserable, so human. His tone was still flat and without inflection, but his voice was lower than usual and bled an impossible amount of sadness. "Your mother knew how you felt." I had meant to come across reassuring, but my tone sounded more like I was scolding him.

"Do you believe so?" I was beginning to think that people responded better to tactlessness than sensitivity which was good news for me.

"Of course, Spock. For someone so logical you sure don't think about the important stuff too much, do you?"

"I… I suppose I do not," he conceded, brightening somewhat. That is, if a Vulcan _could_ brighten.

I tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder, careful not to touch his skin. "See, Spock. You know that your mother knew simply because she was your mother. Nothing to worry about there."

"I-" A loud crash in the hallway drew our attention to the door as it opened and our good captain tore into the room.

During our little chat I'd sort of forgotten about the ship's crisis. The one I was supposed to be solving. A crying Vulcan could do that to you. Jim proved to be a rather potent reminder.

"Bones! Spock! I've been looking fucking _everywhere_!" His cheeks were flushed and his blue eyes blazing as he surveyed the room in a panic. "Scotty got through and we won't burn up, but only if we can get Spock's calculations! Scotty can't change the laws of physics and we _don't have thirty minutes_ to be off fucking around and trying to get the engines up. Spock! Calculate! Hurry!"

"Calculate what, Jim?" Spock's voice was calmer, yet still leaked emotion. A different emotion. A… dare I say, _sensual_ emotion. I don't think that particular phrase had ever been said with so much desire.

Jim stopped. His entire body, which had been nervously twitching about, froze. "You-you called me Jim. You've never called me Jim before."

I groaned. "I don't think this is the time-"

"It's always Captain or Sir or even Kirk – never _Jim_." I rolled my eyes. I couldn't help it. He repeated his own name the way a teenage girl might whisper the name of her crush. _Jim_ slowly made his way closer to Spock with his best bedroom eyes on display. Electricity crackled to life between the two and, fearing for my innocence, I shot out of my seat and commenced shouting.

"Calculations, Man! What calculations?!" The two snapped out of it for the moment and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Oh… um. The engines are off and we don't have the time to turn them on so-"

"A cold-restart with a controlled matter-antimatter implosion is necessary," Spock finished, knowingly.

"A _what_?" was my particularly intellectual contribution to the plan.

**//-//-//**

I'd never seen anyone react so sexually to mental math. As a trained medical professional, I would have guessed that Jim was in heat as he watched Spock make his damned calculations.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

thanks for all the reviews and such :)

hope you like the chapter

oh yea. i should mention that this plot [Psi 2000 and the whole loss of control thing] is from the TOS episode The Naked Time. that whole confession of Christine's was almost directly quoted from the episode.


	5. Chapter 5

Neither Jim nor Spock had told me what happened during the chunk of time between my racing to Sickbay for stimulants to revive the exhausted crew (the stimulants helped the sickness wear off) and returning to the bridge to find the two of them avoiding each others' gazes. A difficult undertaking considering that they could hardly keep their eyes off of each other.

One would be staring at the other when the other looked over. Eyes would lock then they'd both look away quickly, Spock blushing greener and Jim grinning. Usually Jim was the one to give in and let his gaze wander back to Spock, but then Spock would feel his eyes on him and the whole cycle would start again.

It was only slightly nauseating.

Even when he wasn't looking at Jim, Spock's normal expressionless façade was entirely betrayed by the light but constant blush that crept up from under the black collar of his uniform and reached all the way into his finely combed black hair and to the tips of his pointy ears.

Looking at the blue of his uniform made me shiver slightly. I realized I would never be able to truly separate the color blue from the picture of Jim and Spock doing unmentionable things. Oh god… every time I looked in the mirror I would see my eyes. My _blue_ eyes that matched Spock's _blue_ uniform as Jim so cleverly pointed out. Then there was my _own_ blue uniform. Jesus Christ, Jim. He had to go and leave me with no choice but gouging my own eyes out.

As far as my _actual_ feelings on the matter went, I wasn't really _against_ them being together. I didn't want any visuals, but... It was just a bit… I mean it was _Jim_. Every mission we go on seems to require that he seduce and consequently make out with/feel up some lovely woman. It is a bit absurd actually, but that's just how it is. _I_ didn't want to have to calm down a jealous Vulcan. And our captain has a bad habit of getting his shirt ripped apart. _I _didn't want to half to deal with a lust-crazed Vulcan, either. Yet it seems, as one of the two people that he actually considers his friends, the responsibility would _logically_ fall to me.

As the doors swished shut behind me, Jim noticed my presence on the bridge and let out an excited "Bones!". The Captain eased himself from his chair, the exertion eliciting a wince that was not lost on me.

Goddammit. He'd been fine when I left him an hour ago. He couldn't stay out of harms way for a minute, could he?

"Jim, are you injured?" I asked slowly, letting the threat go unvoiced but apparent in my tone. The threat was something along the lines of 'if you're hurt _again_, so help me Hippocrates, I will stab you with so many hypos you will _never_ leave my sickbay again.'

Jim was well aware of this threat.

My harmless question left him grinning from ear to ear. The rest of the bridge crew was watching with slight interest. As far as they could tell, this was just another instance of the captain being scolded by his doctor. Spock though was turned away, full attention on his station despite the fact that nothing even vaguely scientific was happening. "Do you really want to know," he asked cheekily. I gave him an appraising glare and noticed the bruises beginning to form around his wrists.

I knew I would regret pursuing this, but as a doctor I had to be sure. "Jim… what are those marks on your wrists?" From the corner of my eye I could see Spock stiffen and his ears flush a tad bit darker.

He was to blame.

I turned even greener than him and for the second time this week I, for lack of a better word, fainted on the bridge.

**//-//-//**

I woke up in one of my own bio-beds, the drab colors of Sickbay surrounding me and the grim visage of the ship's science officer alarmingly close. I heard a mangled shriek, a quiet, muffled one thank god, escape me as I retreated as far into the surface of the bed as I could.

"Jesus Christ, Spock!" I muttered, regaining my composure somewhat. "You scared the hell outta me." He was sitting on the edge of my bed, which seemed uncomfortable for him. I would have to remember to request _chairs_ to go next to the beds.

"I apologize, Doctor. Intimidation was not my intention."

"Of course not…" I muttered sarcastically. It was his damn fault I was in here like this. Scaring me to death with his and Jim's… now his superior strength was giving me an entirely new reason to have to worry about Jim. And I already worried about him plenty. I'm his doctor not his mother, dammit!

It seemed that Spock was back to his usual unfriendliness. "So no more 'Leonard?'" Sure Spock and I argued a lot, and sure he still valued reason over emotion which meant we'd _continue_ to argue a lot, but I had begun to consider the logical bastard my friend.

After a moment Spock blushed ever so slightly. It was small, but I was beginning to notice his barely noticeable reactions. "I apologize for my previous lack of formality. I should not have presumed so much familiarity with you."

I sighed and sat up. "C'mon Spock. Do you have to be such an damn idiot?" This earned me a quirk of his eyebrow and the smallest hint of a smile. I groaned and regretted the question that had formed in my mind. "So how are things with Jim?" Did I _really_ want to know?

I did. I had never seen Jim this invested in a relationship.

I had to admit I was curious.

Spock _actually _smiled at that. A real, legitimate, human smile. "Very much preferable to the former state of our relationship." Though slightly impressed that I had made him smile, I groaned again. "I fail to see why you find the idea of romantic relations between the captain and myself so unsatisfactory."

"I just don't want to think about what you did when I left." I muttered, closing my eyes. Unfortunately, closing my eyes meant that my imagination would have to replace what I had been looking at. And, of course, my mind was on a particular track at that moment. Properly nauseated, I reopened my eyes in order to dispel the picture of the naked half Vulcan's grip on my captain's wrists and… other parts.

Spock was looking at me with thinly veiled amusement.

"Jim and I merely followed your suggestion and engaged in a game of chess." At my skeptical look, he elaborated. "Granted, it was… far more stimulating than any match _I_ had ever taken part in, but Jim assured me we were playing with previously established rules."

I shuddered, trying to shake away any lingering thoughts that could possibly form another evil mental picture. I really didn't want to know what rules they were playing by. I decided to distract myself by yelling, hopefully drowning out my unwanted thoughts.

"What the hell am I still doing in bed? I'm a doctor, not a pillow! I have a whole damned medical team to be running!" Uhg. Damn Jim and Spock and their damned- Oh god. Now I'd be referring to them as 'Jim and Spock.' They were like a… _couple_ or something. I groaned audibly. That was somehow stranger than the idea of them having sex. It wasn't that I was under the impression that Jim wanted sex, or at least _only _wanted sex, I just hadn't really put it together until now.

"Doct-_Leonard_, are you in pain?" Spock's dark, questioning gaze met my scowling one.

"Yes, Spock. And it's your goddamned fault." I slid off the bed and stepped into my office for a moment expecting him to be gone when I returned, but no. After getting myself a drink (just water as I was probably still on duty – what time was it anyhow? Had I been asleep for long? Had Spock been _watching me sleep_ for long? I never thought I'd ask myself that…) I came back and he was still sitting there with his usual Vulcan rigidity although he looked almost… indecisive? "Spock? Is there something you wanted from me?" I frowned. That had sounded like I didn't want him here.

Great. Now I was worrying about his damned feelings.

"Indeed." He didn't speak further, apparently in need of some prodding.

"Well, what is it?" I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against one of the bio-beds.

"I may be putting Jim's life in danger by asking you this - however, I believe he was exaggerating your propensity for causing him harm."

"…What exactly did he say I'd do?"

"When I expressed my desire to breach this subject with you, Jim began repeating 'Bones is going to murder me' with varying degrees of volume and inflection. Then, in an apparent attempt to distract me from the idea, he-"

"I think that's enough information," I coughed. I didn't want to hear about Jim's damned methods of distraction. "Just ask me whatever you want."

"And you won't harm Jim?"

"I'll try my best." It was really the most I could promise.

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**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay with this chapter! and sorry it's kinda filler and a bit unpolished.

this will actually be a 6 chapter story... and i promise Bone's will have some form of a mental breakdown in the final chapter!

i was thinking about doing a oneshot of Jim and Spock's chess game alluded to in this chapter. the one in which Jim ends up ravished ;D is that something anyone [besides me] would like me to write?

ummmm so yea! lemme know what you think!

oh and special thanks to JessFantasy16 for her thalianess! ahg!! i miss you!!!

**Update:** I just made a livejournal [it's my homepage now on my profile] and don't know what i'm doing and have no friends yet so.... be my friend!!!! :)


	6. Chapter 6

"What?!" I shouted. Loudly. Loud enough for two ensigns to rush into Sickbay from the hall and ask me what was wrong. "What's _wrong_?! What the fuck do you mean what's wrong?!"  
They stared at me, stock still and wide eyed.

Spock's smooth voice broke the silence. "Nothing is out of the ordinary. You may return to your duties." He didn't quite seem to have the hang of lying, but they followed his orders anyway. He was Commander Spock, after all, and as far as they knew he was perfectly sane. It was obviously proof that they didn't know much. Spock was not sane. He was in absolutely no way right in the head. He needed a psychological exam. Yes, that's what he needed. Him and Jim and me and, just for good measure, every other damned person this ship.

Spock was slightly green. Apparently, I had embarrassed him by yelling. Well I had every damn right to embarrass him. He had absolutely no business asking a thing like that from a man like me! And by that I meant a _sane_ man. One who wasn't suffering from any kind of mental illness.

"Dammit, Spock, what's wrong with you?" I sent him my best glare. It didn't seem to perturb him in the slightest. He looked almost confused by my anger.

"I merely requested your service as a doctor-"

"Well as of now, I'm not a doctor! I'm a very, _very_ disturbed man. Deeply disturbed." I rubbed my temples, but it did nothing to abate my growing headache

"Leonard. I cannot continue a physical relationship with Jim until I can be positive that I am not hurting him."

"Look, I know that you _think_ you're being logical about this, but you aren't. In fact, you're being damned ridiculous! I'm glad you want to protect Jim, trust me I spend plenty of time bandaging him up so he doesn't simply fall apart one day so I really do understand, but I _refuse_ to 'observe your coitus,' as you so clinically put it." I was downright ranting and raving at this point. "Jim's my best friend _and_ my captain. Do you really think I wanna see you… see him being…" I shivered and took a deep breath. "Goddammit, man! It would not be clinical! It would be _awkward_! I would _die_ of awkwardness -"

"Leonard, you stated only one-point-four-two minutes ago that you are not a doctor. As such, I do not believe that you are qualified to diagnose anything as abstract as awkwardness to be deadly. I would not have considered you as being capable of the aforementioned diagnosis previous to your resignation, either." I stared at his blank expression, into the dark eyes that were just gleaming with amusement.

"Spock…" I started slowly in the voice I usually reserved for the times when Jim was being a particular ass.

**//-//-//**

"You're so mean, Bones." Jim took a seat beside me in the mess hall.

"_I'm_ mean? Your little prank terrified me." _I_ was mean? Did he realize the distress caused by having someone who is notorious for having no sense of humor approach you and request that you watch as he screws your best friend? No. Because I didn't sleep with goddamned half Vulcans.

"You didn't have to yell at Spock. He was practically crying when he came to my quarters last night. I had to comfort him," he stated with a small sniff to emphasize his point. "He was very hurt. I couldn't in good conscience send him back to his own room to sleep alone."

"Elaborate on 'practically crying.'" I tried to ignore my overly informative friend. I really, _really_ didn't need to hear about him 'comforting' Spock all night. Why did the two of them feel like they need to describe such things in my presence? I wasn't sitting in my office all day thinking, 'hmm, I wonder how Kirk and Spock's sex life is going. I should approach them and ask for a detailed update. Oh wait! They're trying to save me the trouble by coming to me directly. Awww. What good friends.'

"Well, some may call it being slightly startled… but I know better. One of your tantrums is enough to make me wanna cry. And this one was particularly vicious."

"How did you… Goddammit."

"Yep. Ship-wide security cameras accessible in the captain's quarters." He grinned and smothered his French toast in maple syrup, beginning to laugh. "When you yelled at those ensigns… you're so cute when you swear," he teased.

"Goddammit, Jim. I'm going to strangle you."

"I would have to request that you did not." Spock sat down across from us. "It would result in your loss of life." He looked up at Jim expectantly and Jim's smile widened. I gaped at the two of them.

"Spock… you just made a joke," I stated in surprise.

"I was not joking, Leonard. If you harmed my captain your actions would not go unpunished."

"_Your_ captain?" I asked with my eyebrows reaching for my hairline.

"Yes. My captain." Somehow, with absolutely no change or inflection in his tone, he managed to express a very clear possessiveness over Jim. Jim was grinning cheekily, as was to be expected, and Spock met his gaze with a smile visible in his brown eyes.

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THE END

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**Author's Note:** Well, there it is.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed [i think i replied to all of them - but if i missed a few sorry and i do absolutely love every review i get]. Lemme know what you thought of this final chapter. Sorry it took so long! i've been distracted by various things and stopped writing for a few days.

Sooo yea~! I'll try to get write the chess story in the near future before you all forget about me and Mint Julep!! :) :)

=Sarah


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